


Knives of Silk

by devdevlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dratomione, F/M, Gin N Tonic, One Shot Collection, Smut, Tumblr Prompts, tomione drabbles mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-15 08:50:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdevlin/pseuds/devdevlin
Summary: An assorted collection of Tomione drabbles, with a few other ships sprinkled on the side. Most of these are one-shots, written from prompts from Tumblr. Posting here as a collection because I'm unorganised, and keeping them here is easier than scrolling back through my Tumblr.





	1. Knives of Silk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'I will knock you on your arse if you so much as think about it.'

If someone had told Hermione that removing the portion of Tom Riddle’s soul from Slytherin’s locket and restoring it into its previous physical form would be the _easy_ part of her day, she would have laughed in their face and insisted they make a speedy visit to St. Mungo’s.

But what she hadn’t realised, was that _watching_ the now-freed portion of Lord Voldemort would be a far more challenging task.

While she’d known managing him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park, she figured a wizard without a wand couldn’t be _too_ hard to handle, no matter who he was a part of. Especially after being trapped in a case of gold for decades.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

How foolish.

It’d been daft to think the only weapon in his arsenal would be his magic. Mad to think he couldn’t affect her in other ways.

But most of all, it’d been downright idiotic to not anticipate how big of a _twat_ he’d be.

“You know, I’m starting to believe that these _friends_ of yours are entirely made up.” His obnoxiously straight teeth were bared in a condescending grin.

She tapped her foot audibly against the main pillar in the centre of the room.

“What was it you said? ‘They’ll be back any moment?’” He continued as though she wasn’t ignoring him. “It’s been-what-” he paused, and she was sure he would have looked at his wrist for show had they not been tied behind his back, “-two hours now? Three?”

After a moment filled only by foot-tapping passed and it became clear she wasn’t going to bite, he sighed loudly.

She almost scoffed. As if it were _she_ inconveniencing _him._

“What about we play a game, to pass the time?” He proposed after a length of quiet, straightening in the chair he was bound to. “For each correct statement I make, you tell me something about what I’m doing tied to a chair in a tent.”

Her eyes rolled back into her skull as she cursed Harry for the hundredth time for taking her wand with him.

“Excellent. I’ll go first.” He smiled cheerily. “Based on the abundance of maroon upholstery in this… _pleasant_ tent, I assume I’m in the company of a Gryffindor?”

Perhaps she could try a _wandless_ silencing charm?

“And, based on the bedding over there, I take it there are three of you?” He continued. “Hmm. Three little Gryffindors, hiding in a _tent_ … c-a-m-p-i-n-g.”

The condescending way he sung his tune drove a sharp pain between her eyes. “I’m not speaking with you.”

He laughed, the soft sound melodical. “I was beginning to worry you’d lost your voice. Though I suppose you wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve rendered speechless…”

“ _Would you just_ -” she broke off to breathe in deeply to calm her tone, “be quiet?”

“You know, I don’t think I will. You see, I’m getting rather bored of this and my lower half has grown numb.”

This time, she did scoff. “My heart bleeds for you.”

“Oh, it will.”

She almost didn’t recognise it as a threat. Not with the pleasant way he spoke and the smile still adorning his features.

Comforted by the fact that it was _she_ who was in control while he was the one tied to the chair, Hermione turned away from him to the side to watch the entrance of the tent, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’ll go again then, shall I?” He asked loudly after a long pause. “Based on those godawful blue _things_ in the shape of pants that you’re wearing, I’d be willing to wager you’re… perhaps… a half-blood?”

She couldn’t control the tensing of her jaw, and his smile widened as he saw it. “No? Well, then I suppose that only leaves… _mudblood_.”

“If you don’t stop speaking, I will _make_ you stop speaking,” she warned, her voice very nearly wavering with anger.

“I thought so,” he said as if she hadn’t just threatened him. “Is that why you haven’t silenced me yet? Because you _can’t?_ ”

The headache he’d given her reached a new height and she turned back to face him, giving him an icy glare of warning.

Meeting her eyes, his smile grew wide. “Because you’re a mud-”

She snapped.

Lunging forward, index finger pointed, Hermione all but screeched, “I will _knock_ you on your _arse_ if you so much as _think_ about it!”

The air in the tent was still with a loud silence after her screech.

For the briefest of moments, she thought she’d finally quietened him.

But then his smirk deepened and he laughed low in his throat.

“And is _that_ why you tied me up with these ropes by hand?”

She swallowed, her anger still throbbing in her neck painfully. But then her rage began to ebb as confusion started to take over.

He couldn’t know how she’d tied the ropes. She was sure he’d been unconscious. He’d been slumped in that chair for a good twenty minutes before he’d woken up, he couldn’t-

Slowly, in a movement that was much too graceful, Tom rose to his feet.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You didn’t do a very good job.”


	2. An Honest Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'Why the hell are you bleeding?"

Tom walked in at precisely the wrong moment.

Hermione’s eyes widened the very instant she saw him, snatching her hand back out of Ron’s tight grip and tucking it behind her back.

“Oh. Tom-”

“What’s going on?” He eyed the wand clutched in Ron’s hand that had been pointed in Hermione’s direction suspiciously.

“Nothing. The peas just needed a bit more heat. Ron was helping.”

Tom glanced between the two, his eyebrows drawing together. “Weasley can’t cook.”

“Hey, I’m alright,” Ron protested.

“What’s behind your back?” Tom directed to Hermione, ignoring Ron.

“Nothing,” she squeaked.

“Then why won’t you show me?” As Tom crossed the kitchen, Ron slowly inched away from Hermione, maintaining a safe distance between himself and Tom.

“Honestly Tom, it’s nothing. Can’t you just let me surprise you for once-” she broke off seeing Tom scan the kitchen bench. Panicked, she hopped to the left to hide the mess of the knife Ron had left.

“Was that blood?” Tom asked, his voice rising.

She shrugged innocently. “It’s just from the meat-”

He grumbled an annoyed curse as he reached her and yanked her arm out from behind her back.

“ _Ow-_ ”

“You’re bleeding,” he stated, seeing the gash that crossed her hand. “Why the hell are you bleeding?!”

“It-it was an accident. Honest mistake. Nothing to worry about. Ron was just about to fix it-”

At the mention of Ron’s name, Tom dropped her hand and spun on his heel. “ _You_.”

Ron gawked.

“You did this?”

“No, it was my mistake, really-” Hermione tried, going for his hand with her good one.

He brushed her hold off, slowly stepping toward Ron.

“I’m sorry mate,” Ron said in a high pitched voice, raising his hands submissively. “It was an accident. The knife just slipped. I-I didn’t mean to.”

In a swift movement, Tom pulled the front of Ron’s shirt so tightly that the threads very nearly snapped, and shoved him back into the cupboards with a loud bang. He pulled the shirt upward, the fabric tugging around Ron’s so hard that it cut off his circulation.

“Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand-”

“ _Tom!”_ Hermione’s shrill yell succeeded in getting Tom’s attention while Ron continued to struggle in his hold. “It was an honest mistake! If you hadn’t come in when you had, it would have been fixed and you would’ve been none the wiser!”

“Please, Weasley couldn’t cast a healing spell for his life-”

“And yet I would much rather risk it than come to you because I _knew_ this is how you’d react!”

Tom’s expression softened ever so slightly.

But then the moment passed as a wet gurgling sound came from against the cupboard.

“Oh, for goodness sake Tom, let him go!”

After a dramatic roll of his eyes, Tom unleashed Ron’s collar and stepped back, allowing him to bend over and gasp for air.

“I’ll… I’ll just…” Ron panted, pointing a hand in the direction of the living room before he hurriedly stumbled out of the kitchen.

Tom slowly turned back toward her.

She glared.

“I’m… Christ. He’s the one who cut your hand,” he said, gesturing back to the living room. “And yet _I’m_ the bad guy?”

She perched her good hand on her hip at the same time as her foot began to tap against the tile.

He sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

Her glare broke as her eyes popped. “Um. I’m sorry, what was that? I don’t think I quite heard you.”

Tom glanced upward as if questioning some deity for why he’d been placed in such a situation before he moved back in her direction. “I’m sorry. I know how you care about those - I mean - _them_.”

She stared blankly before she eventually laughed. “I suppose that’s the closest thing to a meaningful apology I’ll ever get from you.”

His lips thinned.

“It’s just an apology, no need for such dramatics. It’ll hardly kill you,” She said teasingly before adding, “I forgive you.”

His posture slackened at her words and he reached out to pull her into his long arms.

She batted him away. “Now, would you hurry up and mend my hand already?”


	3. Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'What about an AU fic for Tomione in which everyone thinks they're dating because they always bicker and they're so close?'

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re destroying your dessert.”

“It tastes better this way.”

“You can’t mix chocolate with strawberry like that.”

“ _Watch me_ ,” Hermione said, mashing her last scoop of the pink substance with the back of her spoon and mixing it in with what was left of the chocolate. Once she was satisfied with the soft brown-pink colouring, she raised her spoon to her lips and licked off the ice cream, her eyes not leaving Tom’s as she did so.

His nose screwed up as she made a long ‘mmmm’ sound.

“That’s disgusting.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried it?” She asked, taking another spoonful of the ice cream. “Here, have some,” she added, thrusting the spoon in his direction.

“No,” he refused, pushing her hand away.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“I said no,” he repeated, a hint of a smile on his lips as he wrestled her arm back toward her own mouth.

“Ugh, you’re like a child!” She squawked as he bent her wrist a little too far. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Just pretend it’s an aeroplane coming in to land.”

“Stop it.”

“What, are you scared of my germs? Here, I’ll even get you a new one-”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Draco whispered from across the table as he put his glass of beer back down.

“Draco, don’t…” Ginny trailed off warningly.

“Someone has to,” he retorted just as the table was bumped by one of Tom’s knees as he wrestled the bushy haired witch who was seemingly trying to force her way onto his lap with her spoonful of ice cream. The impact almost knocked over what was Draco’s fifth beer of the evening, and he had to use every ounce of his concentration to save it. In his intoxicated state, he surprisingly managed to save the beer, but not before a sizeable portion sloshed over the side of the glass.

“Jesus, will you two just fuck already?!” Draco snapped irritably before he ran his tongue over his glass to salvage what had been spilled.

“Yeah guys, this is getting really old,” Harry agreed.

“ _Excuse_ _me?!_ ” Hermione squeaked as she quickly backed up into her own chair and pulled her hand off of Tom’s thigh.

“Puh- _lease,_ everyone sees it but you, Granger,” Draco slurred before taking another swig of his beer.

“It’s true,” Ginny agreed from Draco’s other side. “Just the other day, Mum asked how long you’ve been together.”

“That - it - we’re not -”

“Yeah, and Cormac’s been waiting for you two to _split up_ for ages,” Harry added with a laugh. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“But we… we’re just… go on then, tell them!” She instructed as she nudged Tom.

Tom, having remained suspiciously quiet, arched an eyebrow and simply shrugged.

“ _What is that supposed to mean?!_ ” She screeched.

As Draco dramatically rolled his eyes and knocked his head back to finish his beer, Tom laughed.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so slow.”


	4. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'All I want is you.'

“I will find you.” His voice was as smooth as the finest whiskey, the acoustics of the hall carrying the musical sounds as he sung. “You can’t hide from me.”

She couldn’t tell which direction he was coming from. With the maze of halls in the ancient manor, determining where he was by sound alone was near impossible.

Shielded by her cover of table cloth, Hermione yanked her shoes off and left her socks. She tucked the shoes underneath one of the chairs and cautiously crept out of her haven.

Slowly, step by step, she ventured out of the dining room toward the butler’s room where she knew there to be a rear entrance to the manor. Keeping low as she moved, she stepped on her toes careful to position her feet on the floorboards close to the walls, praying they wouldn’t creak under her weight.

“Her- _mi_ -oh-ne.”

Her breathing quickened. She felt the small hairs on her skin standing to attention.

He was downstairs with her. He had to be. A voice from upstairs wouldn’t carry like that.

Still, she kept on the move, knowing her chances of making it out were better if she were a moving target. Careful to keep her breaths through her mouth, she padded all the way down to the fork at the end of the hall.

“I can _sssmell_ you.” A whimper almost burst from her throat hearing how close he suddenly sounded. “There’s no need to be scared. I won’t hurt you.”

Feeling her pulse pounding in her head, she peered around down the hall in each direction. Seeing both ways clear, she took the right turn.

_Creeeeeeak._

Her heart pounded on her ribcage as she made it into the butler’s room, the creak of his movement sounding too close. _Much too close._

She quickly glanced behind her.

And saw a blur.

The movement was enough to push her to run, passing through the laundry space faster that she’d moved in her life. She skidded in her socks around the bend to the large black door - her only hope - and saw the freedom of the lamplight from outside the manor shining through the window.

She reached out-

It was locked.

No, no, no, _no._

Not wasting time to look back, Hermione took a step back and threw herself against the door.

It didn’t budge.

A laugh, one higher than she’d ever heard from Tom came from the laundry.

Knowing she had one last shot, one last bid at freedom, she ignored the burning in her lungs, and shot forward.

But the door wouldn’t give.

 _No_.

A large arm gripped around her shoulders, tearing a yell from her lungs.

“Don’t fight me,” he murmured, his other arm snaking around her waist.

“No!” She struggled against his vice-like grip, thrashing like a trapped animal. When force didn’t give her freedom, she scratched at his arms, digging her fingers in so far that she surely drew blood.

But yet he did not give.

Instead, he laughed.

The sound was chilling, his breath hitting low in her ear as he pulled her flush against him, her feet leaving the ground.

She dragged her fingernails across his skin and thrashed with everything she had, but with her feet off the ground, she had no leverage.

“Come, now. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

His seductive words told her where his head was.

And so she threw her head back, the dull thud of the collision sickening.

This time, the sound of pain was his as his grip slackened. It was what she needed, just enough give for her push out of the enclosed room.

She didn’t make it far before he caught onto her wrist, bringing her to a stop. Her momentum pushed her into the wall, giving him the chance to work his other hand through the hair at the back of her head.

“I tried to do this the easy way,” he cautioned, his tone no longer pleasant. “But you never liked to take the easy path, did you?”

His hand tightened around the roots of her hair. She clawed at his arm, an animalistic shriek of pain erupting from her throat.

But then he pushed her, hard, and with a dull _thunk_ , her head cracked against the wall.

And all went black.

 

* * *

 

She woke up gradually, and then all at once. The blurs in her vision cleared rapidly, welcoming her back to the land of the conscious.

She flexed her wrists, finding them tied down at her sides. Her ankles were similarly tied, the ropes digging painfully into her skin skin.

Focusing on her surroundings, she didn’t recognise the space. But by the windowless room and concrete floors, she surmised she was in a basement.

And then she saw _him_.

Leaning back into a wooden chair, he sat directly in front, observing her actions curiously.

The was a red mark on his forehead. It was a small consolation.

“Tom,” she managed pitifully, pulling at the bindings, testing them. “Why are you doing this?”

He straightened, his features twisting as if he were sympathetic for her fear. He slowly rose from his seat, approaching her cautiously.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured with a voice like silk. “You know I would never hurt you.”

He reached her all too soon and she couldn’t contain a whine as his cold fingertips stroked down her cheekbone and slowly trailed down her neck.

“Please let me go,” she tried pleadingly, turning her head away. “We can go back to how we were. Please.”

He smiled sadly. “I would like that. Very much. But the problem is… well, I just don’t believe you.”

She whimpered as his fingers dug into the delicate skin, turning her face up to look at him.

“No. No, please. I’m not lying. I promise,” she insisted. “I want things to go back. I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry.”

But she could see it in his eyes, she was fighting for a losing cause.

He didn’t trust her.

“I’ll give you anything, anything you want. We can work this out. Please… please just…”

“Oh, my sweet, lovely Hermione…” his head was birdlike, tilting curiously. “The only thing I want… is _you_.”


	5. Prague

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'The last thing I remember.'

The last thing I remember, I was admiring a particular piece in the National Gallery of Prague.

I had been wanting to visit the Gallery for years. I never had the courage to travel alone internationally until my boyfriend and I broke up. After I left Ron and it seemed like everyone else was part of a happy couple and my life felt like it was falling into pieces, I thought to myself, ‘why not?’

So I left everything behind and went.

The three-panelled artwork that had caught my eye was huge; almost double my height. The way the courtyard was painted and the two side panels curved inward, it was easy to believe I was standing there, back in time, in amongst the painted figures.

While I stood in my own world, I was approached by the curator, a tall man who introduced himself as _someone_ Malfoy. His grey eyes were piercing, as if he were trying to interpret me in the same way he would a painting.

I didn’t like him.

There was something about him, something in the way his questions were _too_ direct, something in the way he left me feeling cold, feeling _watched._

And so, after having longed to see the gallery for years, I left after staying for a mere hour.

I recalled avoiding the strange looks from the other tourists as I rushed out of there. I have the vague memory of the tall security guard who had greeted me so kindly upon my arrival holding the door open for me as I passed. I thanked him, and bolted.

How unusual it must had seemed, a well dressed, _sophisticated_ young woman in inch high heels running from the art gallery as if something was chasing her.

But something _was_ chasing me.

I didn’t look back as I left, but I just knew he was there, watching me, following me. I could feel it in my spine.

He - the feeling - chased me all the way back to my hotel three blocks over, and I very nearly made it there safely.

But I didn’t.

I turned down the last street between myself and safety, and tripped. I must have hit my head on the concrete very hard, for the next thing I remember, I was waking up in a hotel room with no recollection of how I had gotten there. The room was familiar, almost, but by the items scattered through the room, I quickly worked out that _it wasn’t mine._

The room was dim, lit only by candlelight. The flickers of the flames illuminated only a few metres down the hall, enough to make out his silhouette but not enough to see him clearly.

I can precisely remember the way my heart thudded, the way it seemed to jump in shock as he stepped into the light.

But it was not _someone_ Malfoy, no. His hair was not blond, nor was he quite as lanky. I was not looking into grey eyes, but black ones. It was not the man I had feared, but the man I had greeted kindly, the man I had thanked, the man who had held the door for me…

The last thing I remember, he cocked his head to the side curiously and said deeply, hauntingly,

“ _Hermione Granger._ ”


	6. A Dangerous Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. This was a one-shot I wrote because I needed a new muse. And damn, now that I'm posting these, I'm really starting to see a trend in what I write lmao

_Left, and then right._

That was it. She was sure.

Hermione weaved through the maze of alleys branching off of Knockturn Alley, cursing her past decision to ever come down through them in the first place.

_Why had she thought that following him was a good idea? Why hadn't she just minded her own business?_

She swung left, and took the first right down a dark alley, lit up only by the shop front in the alley behind. She suddenly felt less certain that she had come through this way.

_But he had disappeared. After leaving Hogwarts, years had gone by without a peep as to where the brilliant Tom Riddle had gone off to._

So, as she saw his familiar tall frame making its way through to Knockturn Alley, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her, and she simply couldn't help herself.

She made it to the end, moving to continue around the bend, only to see that the darkened bend in the alley was actually a dead end.

 _Shit_.

"Are you lost?"

His words, spoken the instant she turned back around, almost stilled her heart.

" _Merlin_ , Tom," she managed to gasp after the initial shock subsided. "You scared me."

The corner of his mouth turned upward as she stepped backward, telling herself it was only _Riddle_. There was no need to panic, no need for her heart to race like it currently was. Even after three years, she still knew him, after all. It was just Tom. He didn't know she had been following him. She was fine.

"And just what brings the illustrious Miss Granger deep into Knockturn Alley all by herself this evening?" He questioned, his familiar voice moving smoothly through the darkness as if it had been raised in it.

She glanced behind him, to the lit-up alley mere paces away. There was no need to be on edge; someone could come past at any moment, he wouldn't try anything. She was fine, there was no need for her palms to be so sweaty.

_It was just Tom._

"I was after a book," she said quickly, her words manifesting as a whisper. "Sometimes, the best ones can be found in questionable places. Surely you understand."

She was in no danger, he hadn't ever tried anything before. No matter how many times she had suspected her old schoolmate, she had never found any proof of any misdoings on his part.

_No need to worry._

Even still, she took another step back.

"Oh yes," he agreed, following her with a step forward, "I understand."

As he took another short step, and Hermione made the mistake of meeting his eyes, she suddenly had the overwhelming sensation that their roles had been reversed. His usual cool stare that she had come to know over their years together at Hogwarts was nowhere to be found. His eyes - _had they always glistened like that? -_ were excited, _hungry_. No longer was she the lion, no longer was she the predator.

_She was in a snake pit. Perhaps she had needed to worry, after all._

She braved another step back as he leaned in closer. "I'm sorry, but Harry's waiting for me, he'll be looking -"

" _Liar_."

She stopped breathing as her heart pounded steadily in her chest.

"Do you know what I think?" He asked, his words smooth, yet laced with poison.

She edged back, closer to the wall behind her.

"I think, you _followed_ me."

"No," she denied at once, her stomach dropping as her back collided with the cold stone and she could move no further. "Just shopping."

His lips turned up with a smile that would have moved mountains if he wished it. " _Hermione Granger, lioness_ with a sharp tongue. Always the curious one."

Her lips opened, yet no sound emerged. Her fingers ran against the cold stone bricks, her right arm edging closer to her back pocket.

"But you know," he continued, moving within an arms reach of her, " _curiosity killed the cat._ "

She pulled her wand from her pocket, directing it straight to his throat.

He moved faster than she would have thought possible as the tip of her wand met the skin of his neck, his hand closing tightly around her wrist. He pushed her wand arm up, directing the wand away from him, and forced her hand painfully into the cold, stone wall above her head.

She lashed out with her other arm, managing to land a blow to his chest before his other hand snaked out and forced it upward to join the other.

His eyes flicked downward to see her lips parting, a gasp escaping them as her hand grazed against the stone roughly, surely drawing blood.

She kicked outward, her foot colliding with the bone of his shin. " _Get off of me!_ "

But he was bigger, _stronger_ than she was, making pinning her legs down with his own an easy task. He was pressed close enough for her to feel the rumble through his chest as he laughed deeply.

His expression was one she hadn't seen on him before, his eyes lit with a cold amusement that _chilled_ her to the core.

" _And just what am I to do with you now?_ "


	7. We'll Have Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gin 'n Tonic. In response to the prompt; 'I guess dying with you isn’t the worst way to go.'

“I guess dying with you isn’t the worst way to go.”

Tom glanced at her as if she’d grown two heads.

“What?” Ginny asked, affronted. “Is there someone _else_ you’d rather die with?!”

Tom had just enough time to roll his eyes before he had to duck for cover from an incoming curse. Without hesitation, he sprung back out to throw his own slicing hex back.

“We’re not going to die,” he snapped, shaking off the dust from the castle wall that had settled on his robes, “now come on.”

He dragged her down the corridor in the opposite direction to the group of fighters to a large tapestry. With a flick of his wand, it swung away from the wall, revealing a flight of stairs that hadn’t yet been damaged by the fighting in the castle. With her wrist still firmly in his grip, he pulled her down.

“No, no, Tom, stop,” Ginny protested, dragging her feet and bringing him to a stop on the staircase. The muffled sounds of the fighting echoed ominously. “There’s a good chance that we could die here, today. And I know you’d rather believe otherwise, but I’m being realistic, and I’d really like it if before I die, you know how I - how I truly fee-”

He cut her off as his long hands snaked around her jaw and into her hair, bringing his lips to hers.

The kiss was nothing like the one she’d dreamed of for six years.

No, unlike the scenes of her Mother’s favourite romantic songs, Ginny completely froze. Having been in the middle of speaking, his lips positioned between hers awkwardly, brushing the surface of her teeth. It was hurried, and her foot didn’t pop and her hair was a mess. She was dirty and more than likely smelly, and she didn’t even close her eyes.

And yet, it was perfect.

“I know,” he murmured, breaking the kiss but not letting go of her. “I’ve known for a long time.”

With his hands on her and his eyes looking into her soul, Ginny struggled to think.

Her cheeks surely matched her hair.

“Don’t worry. After he’s gone… we’ll have forever.” Tom’s thumbs circled around her jaw bone soothingly.

“He won’t be easy to get to,” she cautioned. “He’s got so many fighting for him, getting past them all will be-”

“ _Don’t worry_ ,” he repeated, pressing another light peck to her lips and resting his forehead lightly against hers. “I promise you. I’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.”

The moment was one from a dream. One she’d cherish for as long as she lived.

“Tom…”

“I promise you,” he repeated, his eyes resolute. “After tonight, by my wand, Harry Potter will be no more.”


	8. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.'

A loud sniffle escaped past her hand, echoing down the damp dungeon corridor. She leaned back against the ugly stone gargoyle she’d hidden behind and pressed her hands down harder over her eyes in a bid to stop them leaking.

She could still hear the faint music resonating from Slughorn’s office, the cheer of it out of place in the cold dungeon.

_…sees you when you’re sleeping… he knows when you’re awake…_

As though even the _music_ was mocking her, siding with Malfoy and the snakes he called _friends_.

_…knows when you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!_

She’d never hated anyone as painfully as she hated Malfoy. Never had she encountered anyone who got under her skin, between her bones the way that Malfoy did.

 _Well_ , she thought with a snort, _no one except perhaps for Tom_.

She wiped the swollen skin underneath her eyes and brushed her hair back, attempting to forget about the names Draco had called her and the way Tom had _laughed._ Laughed, as if they hadn’t grown up together, as if they hadn’t been friends for the entirety of first year, _as if they were strangers.  
_

She breathed shakily as tried to stop thinking about him and silently willed for the energy to make the journey back to Gryffindor Tower. But then-

**_Tap, tap, tap._ **

_Wonderful_ , she thought bitterly. _Just what she needed._

She pushed back as far as she could against the cold figurine, hoping that if she made herself as small as possible, whoever it was making their way toward her wouldn’t see her as they passed.

The tapping of their shoes grew louder, reaching an apex before they gradually began to quiet.

She dared a peek out of her hiding place.

And at once, her despair was forced out and the sudden void was filled by a scalding rage.

Seeing him there, alone, was enough to drive her to leave her spot. She stormed down the corridor after him, no longer harboring a single care about her smudged make-up or her swollen eyes.

“Hey!” she called to his retreating form. “ _Hey!_ ”

He froze in his tracks at the sound of her voice, slowly turning on his heel to face her.

But she didn’t stop. She didn’t waste a single moment to take in his odd expression. 

“What’s your problem?!” She snapped, the space between them fast disappearing. “What have I ever done to you? _Huh?_ ”

But as he had done for the last five years, he gave her no answers, his expression remaining static. Aside from the slight tightening of the muscles in his neck, it was like he hadn’t heard her at all.

She lashed out with an actual growl, closing the space entirely to shove him back as hard as she could, his back colliding with the cold stone behind him.

“What have I ever done to make you hate me so?!” She yelled, unable to stop now that the dam had broken. “I stood up for you! For _years!_ Harry and Ron and _Merlin knows_ everyone else in my house has been speaking ill of you for years, and I - like the complete and utter fool I am - _defended_ you! Every single time! And you - this is how you - with _Malfoy_ \- after all we’ve been through-”

“I don’t hate you!” He  finally yelled back, his tone matching her own as he took her wrists in his hands to stop her feeble punches. “I could never hate you!”

She stopped fighting against his grip, golden eyes meeting obsidian.

“Don’t you understand? That’s the problem.”


	9. Crookshanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomione. Written in response to the prompt; 'I can’t stand the thought of losing you.'

“Oh thank Merlin!” She cried, pressing her lips to his head repeatedly, covering every inch with her kisses. “Oh. I was so scared! _Oh,_ I can’t _stand_ the thought of losing you!”

Tom crossed his arms, unimpressed with the scene before him.

Crookshanks seemed to agree.

“ _Reeeeow,”_ the cat hissed, squirming in Hermione’s tight grip.

“There.” Tom tapped his foot on the stone path impatiently. “We found him. Can we leave now?”

“No!” She protested, repositioning her hold on her cat. “He came all the way out here for a reason. We need to find out _why_. _Don’t we Crookshanks?_ ”

Tom rolled his eyes at her baby voice. “He was probably just… chasing a mouse.”

“‘Chasing a mouse’,” Hermione scoffed. “Haven’t I told you about that time he knew Ron’s rat was an animagus?”

“Oh, no, I don’t believe you've _ever_ told me about that one,” Tom drawled sarcastically.

She ignored him. “Or-or how he caught not one, not two, but _ten_ gnomes at the Burrow?”

“Sounds like there must’ve been something wrong with the gnomes, if you ask me.”

Hermione huffed. “Crookshanks _knows_ when something’s not right. He even knows when Harry and Ron try to cheat on their homework.” She turned her nose up. 

“I think every wizard in the _country_ knows they cheat on their homework. How else do you suppose they made it into NEWT level potions?”

She held a lengthy glare in his direction before she looked back down at her cat. “Come on, Crookshanks. Let’s leave the mean boy out here for the night.”

Tom groaned, closing his eyes in irritation before he began to follow her.

“You know Granger,” he called after her. “Some people might suggest you like that cat more than you like me. You know, your _boyfriend?_ ”

Hermione stayed silent.

Certain he was still safely out of her earshot, Tom mumbled a low, “ _stupidfuckingcat._ ”


	10. Don't Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Tom Riddle. Tumblr drabble in response to the prompt 'I don't want you to stop.'

Years. _Years_ he'd been imagining this moment, replaying the fantasy as he showered, as he lay in bed, when he was with other women, and now, finally - _finally -_ it was upon him.

Or, rather, _under_ him.

And she was just so _responsive._ Blaise had insisted time and time again that it was the bookish ones, the quiet ones who were the wildest, and fuck - Draco had to admit, he didn't appear to be wrong.

With each stroke of his tongue, Granger writhed beneath him, her hands through his hair tightening on his scalp as she breathed his name, and she tasted so... _so..._

" _So good_ ," she moaned, pushing her hips forward to increase the pressure of his tongue.

He groaned against her, his briefs _constricting._ He gently stroked down her slit as his tongue worked before slowly sliding two fingers inside of her.

She was so, _so_ wet. 

And it was finally all for him.

The sounds she made as he pushed back and forth, slowly fucking her with his fingers were magical. He glanced up to meet her eyes just as he flicked his tongue, and was rewarded as her legs trembled around him.

"Please, Draco," she whined shakily, grabbing at him and trying to pull his body up by his forearms. "Please, I need you to fuck me already."

He slowly removed his fingers. "Patience," he slurred against her after a long sweep of his tongue.

She groaned low in her throat and dug her nails into the skin of his arms. She recovered quickly, her eyes lighting up with excitement as he pushed himself up and crawled over her, positioning himself between her thighs.

"Yes," she breathed as she hooked her legs around his waist. 

Her small fingers dug under the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down-

But before she could free him, the door swung open.

Draco shot up, untangling himself from her deceptively long legs faster than he'd ever moved in his life, just in time to see her fucking _husband_ closing the door behind him.

He paled.

He'd heard of Riddle, his father had been working with him for years, but he'd never met him personally. To Draco, he'd always been a figure without a face; the _other_ man, the one who always won, the one who got the girl.

His reputation proceeded him, of course. Rumours of the great Tom Riddle were plentiful, leaving Draco hardly surprised to see how well put together the man appeared to be. His all-black suit was tailored, custom made surely, and his hair was perfectly swept back, not a hair out of place. He had a tall and intimidating presence, one which the newspapers never seemed to capture in their photographs, and from where they were sprawled on the couch, his irises were indistinguishable from his pupils. 

Draco could appreciate that he was a very attractive man. But the other side of all this, was, of course, that the man was downright _terrifying._

His eyes roamed over them, his watch cold while his expression remained perfectly stoic. And then his focus locked onto Draco.

Draco shot his hand out to cover himself with his shirt that'd been discarded and raised his hands submissively as he scooched backward from Hermione. "I - it's - it's not what it looks-"

"No, no." Tom spoke quickly, the syllable sounding smoother than Draco anticipated, his dark eyes slowly moving to linger on his wife's exposed legs. "I don't want you to stop."

Draco glanced back down at Hermione. And then back to Tom. And then back at Hermione.

"Don't mind him," Hermione soothed as she wriggled closer on the couch, reaching out to rake her hands down Draco's chest. "Tom likes to watch."

An soft, unsure sound came from Draco's throat as her hands roamed lower, pulling his shirt away from his lap and starting to rub over the fabric of his briefs. 

"He likes to give me what I want," she breathed, pulling herself up to bring his earlobe between her teeth. "And what I want right now, is _you._ "

Draco hummed softly before he glanced back past Hermione toward her husband.

He was watching. While he remained expressionless... it didn't look like he agreed with her.

"I... you know what, I'm not really comfortable..."

She released his ear and kissed down his neck, nipping at his skin as she went. "At least finish me off. Please?"

Draco swallowed loudly.

"By all means," Tom said, finally moving from the doorway toward the kitchen bench, untying his tie as he went. "If you don't indulge her, I'll never hear the end of it."

Slowly, Hermione scooted back on the couch, pulling Draco back down with her. He allowed it, stopping as he hovered over her. 

Draco glanced back up. Tom had moved to lean against the kitchen door way, arms folded across his chest. His lip turned upward ever so slightly in the corner. It wasn't a smile... but it was definitely more encouraging than a blank stare.

He glanced back down. Hermione pulled her lip between her teeth and smiled up at him, waiting expectantly.

He swore internally. 

This was Hermione - _Granger_ \- sprawled under him, waiting, wanting. How long had he waited? How much time had he wasted fantasising about this moment?

He even had _permission_.

And so, pushing his reservations to the back of his mind, Draco dove back in.

 

* * *

 

Draco had never had a threesome before, and he wasn't sure that what had just happened counted. 

He wasn't sure that he wanted to do it again.

Once Hermione had finished (he'd had to go back to using his mouth. Merlin knew, he hadn't been able to perform with the audience), Tom had, thankfully, left in the direction of the bathroom. The tension in the room had significantly diminished once he was gone.

Draco relaxed back into the couch watching as Hermione pranced across the room, stark naked, glass of water in hand. She offered it to him.

"Thank you."

She smiled sweetly. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly, watching him drink. "I didn't know he'd be home so soon."

"I didn't realise the two of you had such an... open relationship."

She merely shrugged. 

A moment later, Draco didn't need to see to know that Tom had come back. His presence demanded attention, even now that he'd removed his jacket and shirt, leaving him in his business pants and undershirt. 

It was unusual, how he could be so intimidating without any shoes on.

Tom didn't even look toward Draco as he passed through. "Tell your friend to leave."

Draco stiffened. Hermione glanced toward him sheepishly, taking the glass back out of his hands. "I'll see you tomorrow."

More than happy to get out of there, Draco shot up and found his jeans, pulling them on in what might've just been record time. He pulled his shirt on roughly over his head and slipped his shoes on as he stepped toward the door.

"I'll... um..." he muttered glancing from Hermione over to Tom who had his back to him as he rummaged through the fridge. "That was... thanks. I guess."

Hermione gave him a small wave, and Draco left.

Tom pulled a beer from the fridge and stepped back to the counter to open it against the edge. After a firm hit, the cap shot off with a loud clatter.

Sheepishly, Hermione slinked over from the couch, approaching him from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

"Did you have a nice afternoon?" He asked after a moment, taking a sip of his beer.

"I most certainly did." She was too short to reach his head, so she pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder, instead. He sighed loudly and turned around, wrapping his free arm tightly around her.

"You drive me _insane_ , you know that?" 

She hummed in amusement, the sound lingering as she pulled his chin down to kiss him. "I know."

He kissed her back, slowly and lazily while his fingers traced patterns over her bare skin of her lower back.

"I like Lucius," he murmured between kisses, "you know that, too."

She laughed against his lips. "I do."

"You could've just _asked_ me to stop working with him."

"And what would you have said?"

He pulled back long enough to glare down at her. "He only has one son. He'll never forgive me."

"I'm counting on it," she said after a moment, running her hands over his chest. "Don't be mad. This way, everyone wins."

" _You_ win, you mean."

She laughed again and didn't deny it, bracing herself as he picked her up and spun her to sit her up on the counter. From the new angle, his hips aligned better with hers and with a smaller height difference, he kissed her more deeply than before.

"You'll let me watch when you do it, won't you?" She asked as she broke off, almost feeling guilty for the fate she'd chosen for Draco. Tom wouldn't make it quick.

He never did.

Tom's smile was slow and sideways. "You know I could never say no to you."

 


End file.
